"Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must
have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the
first time we have seen them on this side the island."

"Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack
and I followed, smiling at his impatience.

Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before,
came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small
vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.

"I say, Peterkin," cried Jack, in a hoarse whisper.

"Well, what is't?"

"Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hill
side. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll
cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll
have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you
pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin," added Jack, as he sprang
into the bushes.

"Won't I, just!" said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our
station beside the cliff. "I feel quite a tender affection for
young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in
my s-."

"There they come!" cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the
whole herd screaming down the hill. Now, Peterkin, being unable to
hold back, crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound, in order